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This was really worse than St. Sebastian's. It reminds one of a French gayety in Thiebault or some such author, who describes a rustic party, under equal despair, as employing themselves in conjugating the verb s'ennuyer, Je m'ennuie, tu t'ennuies, il s'ennuit; nous nous ennuyons, &c.; thence to the imperfect Je m'ennuyois, tu t'ennuyois, &c.; thence to the imperative Qu'il s'ennuye, &c.; and so on through the whole melancholy conjugation.
But a few days later "Ah, je m'ennuie, je m'ennuie," she cried in an accent of boredom. Then Bakkus elaborated a Machiavellian idea. Why shouldn't she work? At what? Why, hadn't she a troupe of trained birds? Madame Patou was not the first comer in the variety world. She could get engagements in the provinces. How did she know that the war would not last longer than Andrew's savings?
'Monsieur, me repondit-il, 'nous passons notre vie a conjuguer tous le meme verbe; Je m'ennuie, tu t'ennuies, il s'ennuie, nous nous ennuyons, vous vous ennuyez, ils s'ennuient; je m'ennuyois, je m'ennuierai," &c. THIEBAULD, Mem. de Frederic le Grand.
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